


Finding The Light

by RooOJoy, Rosella_Burgundy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Werewolf Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 16:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17770580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooOJoy/pseuds/RooOJoy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosella_Burgundy/pseuds/Rosella_Burgundy
Summary: A journey through the years shows how Draco Malfoy pulled Hermione from the darkness that was drowning her. Hermione will have to overcome more than the self-loathing for her "condition". She will have to accept the guilt Draco buried.





	Finding The Light

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Dramione Fanfiction Writers for organizing this comp!  
> Warnings: brief description of battle and werewolf attack. Mention to self-harm.

****

 

**Finding The Light**

 

* * *

 

 

It was dark inside the wolf's mind. The total absence of light pulled Hermione closer to the abyss of madness. In her blindness, all other senses were on high alert. She could hear the sounds of the forest drum and resonate within the walls of her skull - the creek at the bottom of the hill, the thundering of the centaurs’ hoofs, and the leaves and twigs snapping under the paws of a lurking creature. A kaleidoscope of smells engulfed every inch of her nostrils, projecting a rainbow of colours behind her blinded eyes - the strong balm of sap and the mustiness of humid moss, the fishy stench of the shore of the lake, and the rusty scent of blood...of a prey. Hermione could feel the earth beneath the cushions of the beast's massive paws, the claws easily digging in the soft soil.

She had been trapped in this windowless cell for so long that she barely remembered what being human felt like. A flicker of rationality screamed that she had been trapped only since the moon made her appearance in the sky vault; just a meagre consolation. The wolf growled, and the flicker extinguished its light. As fast as it came, it was gone and she was alone again, the darkness surrounding her in a cold embrace. And there she stayed, a scared insignificant nothing in the mind of the monster. The only remaining certainty was the knowledge that, ultimately, she _was_ the wolf. She was the abomination. The only feeling squeezing her heart in a steel trap was the loathing for this creature that stole her life away.

Dark, dark, darker.

All she could sense was darkness. She wished she could scream, let out some terror that was suffocating her. But the wolf wouldn't release its hold on her windpipes, choking any sound before it could climb out of her.

The Wolfsbane had worked for a short while. Hermione remembered the pure joy of regaining control of her mind in those ratchet nights when the wolf would claim her and could get ahold only of her body. After just a year of using the potion, the effects of it began lasting for shorter periods of time until the wolf learned how to trap her in the blackness of its mind cell. Hermione was lost - adrift in the pool of blood in which she woke up every time the full moon faded.

All that was left for her was the feeble hope that the dawn could swiftly come and steal the darkness away. All she could experience came through the wolf's senses - smells, sounds, tastes and she wished that the darkness could take away those as well. A cruel joke. Beside her sight, she could still feel all other sensations, enhanced by her animal form.

She felt pathetic. She had tried to end it in the only possible way she knew, but she simply never had the courage to end her own life. She masked her cowardice in the notion of resistance. She told herself she was brave for not giving up, but she was just a craven for not surrendering to justice. Killing the creature would be the right thing to do but…

A low, dangerous growl, born in the throat of the beast, pulled her from her delirium. It smelled something sweet and enticing - blood.

Hermione silently screamed in the darkness as she began trailing the scent in the forest.

 _No, no, no._ She didn’t want to kill anything, any _body_. With a lump in her throat, she hoped that the wolf had kept far enough from the village. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she turned an innocent soul into a monster, or worse.

As clear as a cloudless sky, she could feel the soil under her paws, the hair of the hackles standing straight, skin prickling, lungs expanding to pump life into her sprinting muscles.

Cringing inside, she helplessly witnessed the hunt - a crush, sounds of a brief fight invaded her senses, followed by a disgusting warm, thick liquid that flooded her mouth. Hermione recognized the metallic and nauseatingly sweet taste of blood that she had unwillingly swallowed so many times before. As the wolf dined on its prey, she wanted to hack and vomit everything out.

The fiend suddenly stopped the crunching of its jaws, another scent mingling with the one of its feast.

A twig snapped on their right. The wolf turned its head to the sound, hair standing in a warning, and Hermione knew that the wolf was about to attack whatever had disturbed its feeding. A light breeze carried the newcomer’s scent and she could finally smell it fully - mint and magic.

Her consciousness soared awake, as the scent ignited a little spark of light in her dunk cell. For a brief second, she could see a glimpse of the world around her - green and silver of the vegetation, red of blood and a bright figure on the right.

The wolf snarled and emitted a guttural, dangerous sound, teeth showing in a threat. Before Hermione could recognize what lurked in the light, the wolf trapped her again, and the weird presence disappeared in the vegetation.

It was the weirdest feeling, but she was convinced that she had seen it, smelt it before.

This was the third time she had felt its presence. She was sure that it was an animal, but she couldn’t see it. The first time she only sniffed it in the distance, the second time she had heard it lurking somewhere behind her in the forest. The wolf always knew it was there, but it wasn’t worried. That was the last coherent thought before the wolf growled and forced her into submission.

The rest of the night was dark inside the wolf’s mind.

 

* * *

 

Hexes and curses were flying everywhere above his head. Draco ducked and dodged them, hoping not to get hit. He didn’t even know if the spells were coming from the Order or from the Death Eaters. It didn't really matter as he didn’t belong with either of the two battling factions.

Without purpose or direction, Draco was running amidst the blasted walls of the castle. He thought he was somewhere near the Great Hall when he heard a horrifying scream. Amid the dust and the debris he could barely see his own feet, never mind what lurked around him. He ran down a flight of stairs and tripped on a shattered statue's limb. Without warning, he landed face first on the cold stone, a gash quickly opening on his forehead and trickling fresh, warm blood down his eyes.

Another cry pierced the air, and this time he saw the source of it. A few metres in front of him there was Lavender Brown, prone on the floor with a body on top of her. The thing was sinking its teeth in the soft flesh of the girl's neck, blood spraying and spilling everywhere. Draco shuddered, a suffocating sense of nausea taking over his whole being. His head hurt, and he felt like fainting but kept his eyes on the beast nonetheless. It was then that he realized that the creature was Greyback, although he was not an animal at all.

The notion that he was eating Brown alive in his human form made everything gorier in Draco's mind. He couldn't stop the bile from burning up his oesophagus and exploding from his mouth. With a groan, he stood up, his head swimming in dizziness, and he cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand. As he began thinking about a way to elude Greyback's eyes and save his skin, he saw a red flash hitting the werewolf straight in the chest. Granger’s bloody, bruised face appeared within the dust particles. She had just done the right thing, even if there was nothing left to do for her Gryffindor housemate.

Hermione looked up, and her wand was aimed at Draco faster than he could formulate the will to surrender. Their eyes met, and she studied him, glowing embers boring into him. Lifting his hands in a sign of submission, he felt guilty and ashamed. And then everything happened fast and unpredictable. Greyback came to and saw her. With a growl that had nothing human within, he tackled her slim body. Granger fell hard on her back, the creature looming over her. Her wand rolled away from her. Greyback snarled, whispering something to her with exposed teeth. He brought a filthy hand to her throat, and Draco didn't hesitate. “Avada Kedavra!”

Greyback's eyes opened in astonishment and then went blind, empty of any life. All that was left was the smell of sulfur, burnt hair, and a limp body falling heavy on the girl Draco had just saved.

Stumbling forward, the wizard kneeled next to Granger, pain and exhaustion shooting up his body. With strength that he didn't know he possessed, he pushed the dead weight off her and scooped her up so that she could breathe, her petite body warm on his chest.

Granger looked at him for a lasting moment, too brief for him to read her mind but long enough for the realization of having become a murderer to punch him straight in the guts. He found solace in her blazing irises for a short instant lest he lost his composure. To his despair, she rapidly reached for her wand and stood. Directing a whispered _thank you_ to him, she disappeared into the battlefield.

 

* * *

 

When Hermione stepped out of the forest that afternoon, her basket was full of herbs and fungi that she had hand picked in the woods. Her black hooded cloak billowed in the light breeze as she reached the trail that brought to Hogsmeade. Her eyes drank in the familiar sight of the village with its pointy and crooked roofs and the old stone and wooden cottages. Her feet glided over the pebbles that formed the zigzagging walking path. Not long after the war, she had bought an old, abandoned shop on High Street, renovated the dusty rooms, and opened her apothecary - the Blue Bell. She inhaled the smells of the village - candy, parchment, and roasting food, probably seeping through the Three Broomstick while Madame Rosmerta was preparing dinner for her patrons.

The wind suddenly picked up, carrying the most celestial sound that had ever filled the streets of Hogsmeade.  With a slow classical melody, the softest, sweetest music delighted her ears. She didn’t recognize the air but knew that it was a violin that was being manipulated to produce that calming, most enthralling song. She deviated her course to follow the music, following the watercourse instead of padding towards High Street.

The music of the stringed instrument was playing from a cottage at the skirts of the village. It was one of Aberforth’s properties, usually vacant, but she knew that sometimes he rented them to travellers and merchants.

She felt like a stalking animal, lurking under the windows and trying to see the witch or wizard who was creating such a crystalline sound. Could they be who Hermione thought? Circling the angle of the house, she lifted her gaze to the second floor and saw him.

The wizard was lounging on the large window sill, a leg hanging off the edge into the void beneath. His back was resting on the window frame, his head abandoned to lean on it. She kept her gaze away from his face and focused on his elegant, pale hands. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to her internal question, not yet. First, she needed to listen a little longer. The long fingers of his left hand were gliding and pinching the cords of the instrument in a way so skilful that she had to just stop and stare. The other hand held the bow in the same way Hermione grasped her wand - with a slight pinch and a bend in her wrist. She was mesmerized by those movements. The violin melody picked up into a more joyfully pace, and she finally observed the musician’s features.

She gasped when her eyes landed on the sharp lines of his jaw, delicately resting on the chin rest at his shoulder. Platinum strands moved by the wind framed two glacial grey eyes.

The violinist was Draco Malfoy; she should have known. His music had soothed her so many times before, and she should have recognized the notes of that song. Too enthralled by the violin, her brain didn’t make the easy connection, or if it did, it purposely kept her in the dark just to be able to listen a little longer. She hadn’t seen him since they left the Hogwarts Express for the last time at the end of their extra year of school after the war.

Moving his long fingers along the neck of the violin, and inclining the bow at a different angle, he finished his melody with a slow long stride, the final note dispersing in the wind.

Without hesitation, his eyes moved from his violin to her as though he had known she was there all along. Removing the instrument from under his chin, his eyes never leaving hers, he smiled that satisfied grin that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

Hermione’s heart leapt in her chest, a blush creeping over her cheeks to rival the deep burgundy lipstick that she wore that day. Thankfully, her face was half hidden by her large black hood. Alas, she was sure that he saw her smirking as she resumed her walk towards High Street, a small hand wave to salute him. She could feel his gaze on her back as she strolled away until she turned the corner of the house and disappeared from his sight.

Unlocking her apothecary with a wandless incantation, she stepped inside and removed the hood of her cloak. She walked through the tall pantries and shelving and reached the counter, immediately placing the full basket on it. She had closed the store that morning, as she did once a month when the moon was new. Exceptionally, she was always in a good mood when the moon was absent from the sky. She usually took the days around the new moon to visit Harry and consult the Hogwarts’ library - McGonagall assured her every time that she was welcome as former student and potion ingredients supplier. Other times, she would forage the forest for the freshest supplies. After taking her cloak off, she grabbed her wand and levitated her garment to a clothing rack in the back of the store.

With meticulous care, she began extracting the herbs and fungi from the basket and sorting them into smaller piles. Not even a couple of minutes into this delicate process, she heard the bell above the door ringing. She was sure that the sign in the window still read Closed as she personally flipped it the night before at the end of her business hours.

“We are closed,” she yelled, annoyance slipping in her clipped voice.

“A wooden sign never stopped anyone from crossing a threshold. Locking the door, on the other end, would easily keep unwanted visitors outside.”

Recognizing that low voice, Hermione let go of a bunch of Asphodel roots that she had been dividing into smaller batches, her heart thundering in her chest. A wizard appeared from behind a display case and loomed over the counter, his tall figure looking down at her bewildered face. She shouldn’t be surprised to see him there, but she couldn’t help the telling reactions of her body - pink cheeks, wide eyes, hands bunched over her chest.

“It’s rude to stare at people without acknowledging them. It’s the second time today,” he patronized her, removing his cloak and folding it over his arm.

The sun was setting behind the tall roofs of the village, and the store grew dim and darker. Hermione knew why Draco was here, and it made her feel like one of those bunnies that the wolf hunted in the forest - cornered and doomed. Rationally, she knew that she shouldn’t feel so worried, but the way they parted the last time they saw each other had not been the best so she couldn’t help the uneasiness and the weariness.

Draco leaned on the counter, shoulders slumping down a little, head tilting on a side. “Granger, I just came to say hi and to tell you that I am not cross with you for disappearing after school.”

Again, she was silent, focusing on her breathing. She owed so much to him and yet she had never been able to show him that she was grateful. Deep down she always knew that she was never going to be able to pay him back. The man before her had done so much more than saving her life.

“Sorry about that,” she finally spoke, a silent and wandless incantation turning on the lights in the store.

He flashed his perfectly white teeth in a grin, the lamps projecting orange haloes on his fair hair. “What are you doing tomorrow night? I’d like you to join me for dinner.”

There, that simple question was what Hermione had feared to hear breathing out of his perfect lips. “Tomorrow? It’s Valentine’s day.”

Smirking all confident and unconcerned, he quirked an eyebrow and leaned closer to her. “I’m not worried about it unless you already have a date.”

 _Thump-thump-thump_ , her hands on her chest bundled harder. Her mind screamed to refuse and ask him to leave, but her heart was roaring in her chest. She was so deep in Draco’s debt that she couldn’t deny him a simple dinner. She owed him for getting rid of at least one beast.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was cold, the fall, Scottish wind freezing her right to her bones. She was sore, her body still not acquainted to the transformation. Stumbling out of the Forbidden Forest, she sighed at the imposing mass of the castle. The feeble light of the dawn shone against the ancient stone, brightening the dark, gothic architecture. Shivering, she wrapped herself deeper in her black cloak, the only garment that survived the transformation. Not even a Repairing Charm could undo the damage done by the beast. She knew that she should take her clothes off before being hit by the moon rays - as Lupin had suggested during their brief conversation at Shell Cottage; she was never going to forget the look of sadness and sympathy in his eyes. She was too cold and ashamed to just roam the forest naked as silly as she knew that it was.

She felt so utterly alone and lost, all her magic drained by the full moon so that by morning, she wasn’t even able to perform a warming charm correctly.

“Granger!” a distant call froze her pace. Hermione searched around her, heart thundering in her chest, but couldn’t see anybody. Mentally, she went over the myriad of excuses that she had rehearsed in case of being caught out of the castle at impossibly late or early hours.

A movement above her caught her attention and with a gasp, she realized that none other than Draco Malfoy was hovering over her on a broomstick, cloak billowing in the wind and hair impossibly tousled.

In a spiralling descent, he circled her and landed beside her, air and magic lashing at her from his movements. Hermione couldn’t speak or think. There were only two people that knew about her monthly issue (well there had been three at some point, but Remus was dead): Harry, and she had to confess to him what happened to her when she foolishly had gone looking for a wand after Christmas, and Draco Malfoy, who witnessed what Greyback had done to her and saved her life.

Dismounting his ride, he reached to his side and searched inside a satchel. With a look of pure hesitation, he handed her a wool cardigan, a hat and a scarf. Hermione was too cold to question his motivations so she eagerly slipped the hat on her head. Draco turned around to give her some privacy, and she wore the warm cardigan and wrapped the scarf tightly around her neck, tossing the cloak back on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” her voice sounded raspy and cackling. When he performed a Warming Charm around them, she finally snapped as her brain suddenly unfroze. “Why are you doing here, Malfoy?” He looked at her sideways while digging in his satchel again.

“You need help. I thought you’d be smart enough to go to McGonagall or Madame Pomfrey but, you haven’t. They don’t even know, do they?” He put a vial with a bluish liquid in front of her face. “Drink. It’s Wolfsbane Potion.”

Due to the toxicity of the plant for her kind, she wasn’t able to brew the potion herself. She didn’t know where to acquire it either. Her body craved for some healing, and she knew that boiled Aconite was like a painkiller to werewolves. She uncorked the vial that gave off a blue, smelly smoke and swallowed the concoction whole. It tasted like bitter cabbage - disgusting.

Malfoy snickered at her revulsion but stopped when she glowered at him.

“Why?” she queried again.

His gaze fell to the grass. “Guilt. I’ve done so many despicable things during the war.”

“What? You saved my life twice, and now you are helping me like I'm not the one in your debt.”

“I-I…” he stuttered, but she waved a hand to silence him, knowing that he was probably looking for a little redemption, and she was not in any condition to deny him that.

Merlin knew she wanted some too, to redeem herself from all the foul things that the wolf made her do under the rays of the full moon. “It doesn’t matter. Thank you.” Draco’s lips arched in a tiny smile while he vanished his broomstick, his eyes not meeting hers.

As they walked towards the castle, Malfoy kept shooting sideways glances at her unsure pace, pinching his eyebrows together every time she winced in pain. Without a word, he summoned a violin and started playing for her, the music soothing her stormy insides and quieting her dreadful thoughts. He didn’t stop until they reached the main entrance. “My mother always plays for me when I don’t feel good. It works, doesn’t it?” Draco didn’t wait for an answer; he just left her there, beaming at his blond head as he walked towards the dungeons. It did work, that music did wonders for her wounded heart.

From that moment forward, Hermione and Draco started an awkward friendship made of silent hours of study in the library, Wolfsbane brewing (she couldn’t touch the Aconite plant, but she insisted to help with the other ingredients), and tender music at the end of long, lonely nights.

 

* * *

 

“You don’t go out much.” Draco’s observation made her jolt in her chair at a secluded table of the Three Broomsticks. She had been weary and jumpy since they came in because it was true, she wasn’t used to crowded places anymore. The occasional tea at Harry’s and the interaction with her customers were all the social pressure she could handle.

Hermione gave her date an apologetic smile and forced herself to stop scanning the tavern for imaginary threats - the real danger was her, she reminded herself. Lifting her eyes on Draco, she started some small, pathetic talk, “What brings you to Hogsmeade?”

Draco gazed at her interlaced hands on her lap with an almost imperceptible frown and said, “I have an interview with Headmistress McGonagall in the morning. There’s a job opening that I am interested in. Slughorn retired, this time for good, and I’m after his position as Potions Professor.” She beamed at him, genuinely impressed and interested in his career, and his eyes turned into the most attractive shade of quicksilver. “Then there’s the main reason that brought me here, and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

She violently blushed, averting her eyes from his smouldering gaze. Luckily, Madame Rosmerta interrupted them, placing their drinks on the table and taking their food orders - Hermione remembered their eighth year when Draco had asked her to accompany him to visit the tavern so that he could apologize to the barmaid for what he had done during their sixth year.

Hermione couldn’t understand why Draco had come looking for her now, after almost two years since the last time they saw each other at King’s Cross station when they stepped out of the Hogwarts Express one final time. She had never sent him an owl, even if she had promised to contact him, and always refused his letters until they stopped coming. “Why now, Draco? I thought you would have given up after all this time.”

His eyes narrowed. “I could never give up on you even if…” he trailed off, biting his lip. Hermione offered him her hand, palm upward over the table, and he took it, giving her a tight smile before continuing, “I couldn’t show my face without bringing good news. Because now I can finally help you properly and make you understand that you don’t have to isolate yourself.”

She quirked an eyebrow in a silent request for further explanation. He bit his lower lip again, eyes escaping her gaze. “I’ve been researching. My studies brought me to three conclusions. One: Wolfsbane’s effects cease after monthly use for more than a year, but I’m sure you know that already.” Hermione nodded, taking a sip of her Butterbeer. “Two: having someone beside you while you’re in your werewolf form helps you remain in control of the wolf.” She knew that was true from Harry’s tales of the Marauders. Her best friend had tried to practice how to become an Animagus, but his busy life kept him from focusing on that difficult task. Between his engagement and Auror duties, he had barely any time to eat. “Three: I am really good at Transfiguration.” He gave her a proud smirk, drinking in the expression of pure bewilderment that she was sure that was plastered all over her face.

Madame Rosmerta came back with their meals just then, and Hermione simply kept staring at him. “It was you, that animal in the forest! How long have you been following me?” she whispered harshly as soon as the landlady left.

Draco scratched the back of his neck. “I just came here the past three full moons. I wanted to be sure that my studies were correct, and you didn’t try to kill me. I didn’t want you to know it was me yet, just in case you would attack me.”

Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms. If she knew him just a little, she was well aware that he had protected her by the guilt of him knowing that she had killed an old friend. “You are an irresponsible git!”

He shrugged, not denying her accusation. Locking eyes with her, he took a long sip of his Firewhisky, his gaze suddenly hesitant on her. “There's also another reason.” He inhaled sharply before blurting out a hurried, “My guilt.”

Hermione tightened her grip on his hand that was still holding on to her on the table. “We discussed it before. You already paid for what you did as a Death Eater. You were sixteen when you were ordered to kill Dumbledore.”

Draco let go of her hand, clenching it in a fist that balled over the tablecloth. “But, it's not just what I did to Dumbledore; there are also things that you don't know-”

Crossing her arms on her chest, Hermione huffed. “I don't want to hear a list of your wrongdoings,  Draco. You are not as bad as you think you are.”

With a scoff, Draco shook his head. “Let’s make a deal. Let me help you for the next full moons and when you are back in control of yourself, you’ll let me come clean with all my wrongdoings. I want you to hear me out then.”

Pinching her eyebrows together, Hermione doubtfully nodded, agreeing with his bizarre deal.

 

* * *

 

Draco had been silent on the ride from Hogsmeade to London. They shared a compartment, and he had lounged on a seat with a book in his lap the whole time. Although, Hermione knew that he hadn’t read a word from it since he was still on page one when the Hogwarts Express came to a screechy halt at King’s Cross station. In the last couple of months, things between them had become a little complicated, to say the least. She had developed strong feelings for him and struggled to keep a straight face every time his beautiful crystalline eyes met her own. Sadly, Hermione knew that a monster like herself didn’t deserve happiness so she kept quiet and kept going about her life normally. When the first students began hopping off the train to run to their families, she realized that she wouldn’t have the chance to see those attractive eyes every day like she was used to.

“You don’t have to live alone in the house that used to be your parents’,” Draco said all of a sudden, eyes firmly on page one of his book. “You should stay with someone that cares about you. Go to Potter or-” He didn’t finish, a pink tinge colouring his cheeks.

Hermione’s heart sore in her chest. She thought about asking him to move in into a flat together, opening an apothecary since they both loved potions, and confess her love for him. Unfortunately, what came out of her mouth was a stupid question that she had never worked up the courage to ask before. “Why did you kill Greyback?”

He tilted his head, unsure of the unexpected turn of their conversation. Frowning, he bit his lip, then opened his mouth but quickly closed it again. The train was almost empty now, all the students crowding Platform 9 ¾ of King’s Cross station. Draco’s eyes scanned the crowd for a brief moment, and she followed them. “Because he was about to kill you.”

“You stunned him before…” Hermione whispered.

Draco sighed. “He threatened me and my mother for so long under Voldemort orders. He was to bite me if I ever misbehaved. I know the fear of becoming a werewolf, and I feel guilty that you had to become one instead.” He moved his eyes on her, charcoal twirling in a pool of silver, and her heart thundered. “It was justice. You didn’t deserve to be bitten. Sorry that it happened to you. I’m so sorry.”

Draco moved closer to her and wrapped her in a warm embrace. Head fuzzy and content, she melted into him, nudging her face into his neck. He smelt like soap and that sweet and peculiar scent that was Draco - mint and magic. A sigh escaped her mouth as she tilted her face up, her nose brushing his jaw. Without thinking, Hermione brought her lips to his mouth. One of Draco’s hands abandoned her back and rose up to her curls, grabbing a fistful of them as he kissed her. She had never felt so light since Greyback bit her.

As Draco deepened their reciprocal exploration, Hermione’s mind started overthinking. She didn’t deserve this kind of blissful elation. She couldn’t involve him in her damned life any longer. Draco didn’t deserve a life next to a monster that could kill him or hurt him by accident.

As if Draco heard her thoughts, he interrupted their kiss, and she took advantage of the moment to shove him away and stand.

“Sorry,” Hermione blurted out while collecting her belongings. “This was a mistake. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

A pale hand brushed some wild curls from her shoulder. “ _I_ am sorry. Please, I need to explain, Hermio-”

“I’ll owl you soon. Please. It’s better if I live alone.” Hermione glanced at him once more, drinking in the handsome man before her for the last time, and ran out of the Hogwarts Express.

 

* * *

 

The full moon shot her furious rays at the earth, illuminating the forest with gloomy beams and shadows. Hermione was confined in the wolf’s subconscious. Unlike the many moons that came before this one, it was not so dark in her prison. Hermione held a little torch of hope in her arms, cradling it to keep it alight.

The beast was scanning the forest, thirsty for blood and trotting along the path of a creek that flowed its water in an intricate stream down the flank of the mountain. The wolf stopped to drink from the brook, awkwardly bending its humanoid shape to dip its jaws and refresh its dry mouth.

Upwind, the sensitive nostrils of the werewolf detected the now familiar scent of the intruder. Now that Hermione knew that it was Draco, she couldn’t help feeling a thrill down her spine.

The werewolf followed the scent with malign intentions, pawing the ground and digging with its claws. The stronger and closer the smell became, the clearer Hermione’s mind felt. She battled with her own teeth and claws to free her consciousness from the dark cell. The wolf fought back for control, but Hermione was strong of new hope and determination. Her prison became lighter and more volatile until Hermione was finally free, her mind as clear as when she was human.

The light was all around her. The moon rays were bright and shiny, the waters in the creek reflecting the natural light, creating a myriad of sparks and speckles. The brightness seemed to emanate from a precise point downstream, and she followed it in a mad race. Her eyes could see everything, from the tiny leaves littering the forest ground, to the gigantic trees towering above her. The night was bright and white, and her heart sailed to a kind of peace which she had not felt for a long time.

The werewolf feebly protested when she finally saw the intruder, telling her to chase the animal out of their territory. She easily silenced that internal voice.

Draco was sitting on a rock midstream. She was in awe of his Animagus form. A white arctic wolf stared back at her, shiny, grey eyes piercing through the night. He was simply majestic. His snout was long and pointy, his chest strong and wide, his paws large and powerful.

Finally in complete control of her own body, she approached him. It was so strange to tower over him as her werewolf shape was so much bigger than his own wolf frame. Hesitating, she brought a paw to his muzzle, her dark brown fur contrasting against his candour. Draco poked her with his nose. Her humanoid hinder legs were freezing in the cold stream water so she moved towards the forest, nudging him to follow.

The two wolves spent the night bonding, hunting, and playing in the forest. And so they did every full moon after that, Hermione’s heart feeling lighter every time, her soul healing from her self loathing. Draco had brought her back to life.

 

* * *

 

Draco hated life with all his heart. If he still had one; he wasn’t sure anymore. Christmas break was a disaster. He had wanted to go home to see his mother and leave the dreadful place that Hogwarts had become under the Carrows’ regime, and then he had wanted to leave the second he stepped out of the manor’s fireplace. The first thing he had seen was the sneering muzzle of Greyback, along with the serpentine face of Voldemort who had greeted him with his twisted, deranged smile.

With a brief, hissing order, Voldemort had given him to Greyback as an extra wand for the Snatchers. Draco wasn’t even granted a minute with his parents before Fenrir dug his disgusting paws in his shoulders and dragged him out of his own house, apparating away once they reached the limit of the wards.

He had been forced to sleep in a cold tent in the Snatchers camp for weeks, his only connection to the world were rumours that the criminal lowlife spread in the camp - Voldemort almost catching Potter, the Carrows being punished for allowing a bunch of Gryffindor’s to organize a rebellion group, Muggles dead and tortured. He had to spend both Christmas and New Year’s Eve without his family, freezing in this Merlin forsaken wood - the Forest of Dean, if he remembered correctly.

Almost a fortnight after New year's, Draco came to the decision to leave. He had been punished enough, his family had been tormented enough. So as the moon sphere shone brightly in the black sky, full and alluring, he took his best chance and ventured in the woods. Greyback was out terrorizing the closest village in his werewolf shape, and the Snatchers were too dumb to mind his movements, drunk or asleep by the fire. As soon as he exited the camp wards and collected his magic to apparate away from that frozen hell, he heard a low growl not far from him in the thicket.

The hair at the nape of his neck stood tall as he realized that there was a werewolf behind him, stalking him. He moved his legs instinctively and ran as fast as he could. Panting and cursing, he commanded his mind not to think about the beast behind him but to just lead his feet forward. He knew it was close, he could smell its fetid breath, he could feel its claws grazing his cloak at every lash. Reaching a narrow creek, his eyes saw a human figure hiding behind a tree just in front of him, looking towards the Snatchers camp that remained invisible behind the wards. It looked short and petite, probably a girl. Draco didn’t think twice and headed right in her direction. He tossed himself in a bush, cast a quick disillusionment charm on himself, and hoped that the wolf would see the easier target before its eyes. The witch heard the rustling of his fall and turned, realising what was coming for her. She began running for her life. Draco laid on the ground gasping and heaving, trying to calm his heart until he heard a terrifying scream.

He usually turned a deaf ear to the cries for help that echoed in the camp because there was nothing that he could do to help them, but the distressed voice resonating through the woods was his own doing. He felt a pang of guilt hitting his solar plexus. He regretted doing what he just did. With caution, he followed the yelling to a small clearing in the forest and saw that the massive beast was stalking its prey and circling around her.

The werewolf was, without a doubt, Greyback. Draco recognized the big scars on his muzzle. It was standing on its rear legs that retained a small amount of their human form, massive chest and arms puffed out with the excitement of its hunt, long wolfish snout emanating foul white vapour in the crisp air. Its grey fur was stained in red on the knuckles and on the muzzle. With a gasp, he realized that he knew the werewolf’s victim. He would have recognized that bushy hair everywhere. Granger. What in the name of Salazar was she doing there - alone and scared? Blood was trickling from her wand tip, lowered at her side and staining her Muggle blue trousers with a crimson blotch. He could tell that she was having troubles lifting her arm to perform magic. What had he done?

He fought his need to escape and not involve himself in the war more than he had already, but she was Hermione. He couldn’t just leave her there to die. Potter would have fallen without her brains, and the Scar Headed boy was the only chance to rid the world from the Dark Lord. Draco couldn’t risk it.

As the wolf prepared to pounce on her, lowering his stance to charge its body like a coil, Draco aimed his wand at it and shot a Stunning Spell. The werewolf fell on its side with a painful whimper, and Hermione turned her head and looked at him straight in the eyes. By her expression, slack jaw and wide eyes, Draco could tell she was surprised to see that he was her saviour. Always keeping an eye on him, she searched the stunned body before her and sighed when she didn’t find anything. The beast was naked. With a final glance in his direction, she winched at the pain in her arm but successfully apparated away. Draco did the same a second after, wasting no more time.

 

* * *

 

Humming a merry tune, Hermione climbed the path that led from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. The sun was setting in the horizon, shining its golden rays before her feet. She entered the castle, taking in the familiar sight of the ancient walls. Without wasting time, she descended the stone staircase that led to the dungeon, a smile playing on her lips while she anticipated meeting Draco.

After finding his quarters empty, she found herself staring at the heavy, wooden door that served as the entryway to the potions classroom. With a deep breath to convey some calm to her thundering heart, she knocked her delicate fingers on the door that opened with a dragging sound shortly after. Draco's platinum head appeared through the slit; his eyes, hooded and sleepy at first, immediately brightened when he saw her.

“What are you brewing that is keeping you up after curfew, Professor?” she asked, picking playfully behind his back. She had felt so incredibly joyful lately, and it was all because of the wizard in front of her. There was a sense of peace and content in her heart, coming from the knowledge only that she was finally herself again. She felt worthy and deserving of love and attention - love that she hoped to find in Draco Malfoy.

“I'm brewing some Felix Felicis for the Department of Mysteries. I need to monitor the cauldron temperature to avoid being like Longbottom and destroying the lab.” Draco's mouth twisted in a devilish grin as he stepped aside to let her in.

Hermione shook her head and gave him a warning glare. Neville didn't deserve to be made fun of; he had become one of the best Herbologists alive.

Approaching the only desk that hosted a brewing cauldron, she inspected the contents. The concoction was turning into the perfect shade of molten gold, perfectly round droplets starting to leap like goldfish on the surface. She knew that the potion was perfect, but teased the professor nonetheless. “Did you add just a dash of tincture of thyme? I hope you used the fresh batch that I personally prepared last month.”

With a smirk, he leaned on the desk, crossing his arms on his puffed chest. “Yes, my swotty witch. I did everything right. Now if you let me do my job, I will finish this bloody potion.” Moving his wand above the cauldron, he created a figure eight with practised wrist flicks and recited the right incantation, “Felixempra!” The cauldron bubbling stopped, and the flame under it disappeared, giving off a bluish smoke.

“Perfect,” she let out with a sigh. Collecting her nerves, she gently tugged his robes so that he could face her. “Happy birthday,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his athletic waist.

He leaned down to rest his chin on her head, as she snuggled against his body.

“It is my birthday. I was so caught up with that potion that I forgot.” He chuckled lightly, his minty breath blowing in her har. “And what do I get for my birthday?” he asked, mischief mingled within his words. She looked up to him, a smile brightening her features. Rolling forward on her feet to reach his height, she captured his lips with her own. Biting, suckling, and licking his mouth, she fully savoured him. She gasped when he turned her in his arms without effort, interrupting their kiss and groaning in her ear. A hand grabbed her throat as Draco left a trail of tantalizing open mouth kisses on her neck. Her hips instinctively pushed backwards, rubbing against him. She wanted him, all of him. “I love you,” she confessed, and he froze.

Her heart sank as he distanced himself, releasing a sigh.

“Granger, we need to stop.” When she swivelled on her feet to look at him in the eyes, he pulled her to him in an awkward embrace. Her lip trembled as she waited to be turned down. He didn't love her, she realised with a whimper. “I can’t keep hiding what I did from you,” Draco breathed out, his voice bore an undertone of regret.

Hermione's eyebrows formed a confused wrinkle where they met. “I told you before that I don’t want to hear it.” She wasn't sure why he would bring it up in that moment. There were easier ways to break someone's heart.

“We had a deal. Now please listen,” he begged.

She was silent for a while as she wondered why he was so determined to confess his war crimes. “Go ahead,” she finally conceded.

Draco lifted her chin, his cloudy, regretful eyes piercing her soul with a worrisome sorrow. “I’m the reason you became a werewolf. Greyback was chasing me at first, but then I saw someone hiding behind a tree and pointed him in your direction. I didn’t realize it was you until the very end when I cowardly saved you, but I can’t promise you I wouldn’t have done it if I had known it was you in the first place. I am a selfish prat. I am so sorry.” His eyes were hunting, a glint of tears threatening at their corners.

Her heart stopped as she finally discovered the reason why Draco had never insisted on stopping her at King’s cross. Never contacted her until he could amend some more of his wrongdoing. Hermione stumbled backwards, interrupting the contact between their bodies. Her legs were weak while they dragged her backwards until her back met the stone, cold wall. Shaking her head, she spoke, her voice just a broken murmur. “So all you did for me was really solely out of guilt…” she mumbled more to herself than to him.

She heard his deep breaths from the other side of the classroom. Her eyes could not bear the sight of him. “At first, yes. I saved you to clean my conscience in the forest. But I killed him to revenge you and my family. I’m bloody well aware that all the help from me after that will never make up for my mistakes, but please know that once I got to know you, all I did was because of my ever-growing admiration for you.”

Draco erased the distance between them with long, elegant stride, his face replacing the sight of the cold floor before Hermione as he sunk to the floor, kneeling and begging. “I know that I don’t deserve you and that not even my love for you can redeem me for that. But I do. I do love you, Hermione.” He took her hands in his, a silent prayer in his stormy eyes. “Please, forgive me.”

She pulled her hands away, fists bunched on her chest, and moved her floating body towards the door. “I need to go. Don’t look for me.” She never remembered Draco's please for her to stay, or her mad hastening down the hill and through the forest that led her home.

It was not until the next full moon, under the rays of the ruthless moon, that she fully forgave him. The white wolf was there beside her, supporting her in her fight against the darkness. She let his guilt go solely out of love - her love for him. Draco had many faults. He was a coward and a selfish prat, but he was the sole reason why she didn’t hate her life anymore. She knew that he had changed and deserved redemption for his actions, absolution that he gained by helping her after the transformation.

Because of Draco Malfoy, it was bright inside the wolf’s mind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are always welcome!


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